


Dernier Cri

by Yilena



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe, Chatting & Messaging, F/M, Long-Distance Relationship, Romance, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Social Media
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 19:40:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yilena/pseuds/Yilena
Summary: Marinette was happy with her mediocre channel. When a popular user by the name of RienA comments on her latest video, they start an unlikely friendship that leads to budding feelings and him being the best part of her day. AU.





	Dernier Cri

**Author's Note:**

> This was born because I really wanted to do something with online fame again, but with a long-distance relationship this time. I had Adrien as the dancer originally, but it suited Marinette much more in the end (any story where Marinette's physically fit is great). Where does Adrien live? I don't know, sorry. I plucked the time difference out of nowhere, so it's up to anyone.

  _Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Chat Noir © Thomas Astruc_

She hadn't expected to make her best friend through dancing.

Marinette had danced since she was a teenager. It was self-taught, something that she hadn't attended lessons for when she was younger, and it was from finding videos online of people filming themselves dancing to a song, either copying the choreography or creating their own, that she became interested in it. She'd been wide-eyed and silent as she found the good ones—particularly those where the music was in a foreign language—and it was from there that she started her new hobby.

It was hard at first. She'd been so self-conscious, not wanting her parents to come upstairs and find her dancing pathetically in her room, not when she couldn't quite hit the moves or make her body to move in the right ways. Marinette had stubbornly kept it a secret, only dancing when her parents were busy with work and not in the house to hear her loud footsteps, right until she was about to graduate secondary school.

After they'd found out and given her their blessing to make noise when they were home, as long as it was reasonable and wouldn't keep them up at night, Marinette shyly started to record her own covers and posting them online. The views were miniscule and tiny, but the rare comments that she received caused her to smile widely, overjoyed that anyone had noticed her at all.

By the time she was nineteen, in her second year of university and studying something that was definitely not dance, she had a large enough number of subscribers for her videos that made her friends whistle in amazement whenever they remarked on the increase of views on her newest posts. She stuck to songs that weren't in her native language of French—as they were more dance heavy than the ones from her own country—and found success from the amount of support of the fans.

From the years of waking up early to learn new routines and dance before her classes, choosing to do it then rather than when she was lethargic in the evenings, Marinette had grown confident in her appearance. With dark-coloured hair that fell to the middle of her back, bangs that didn't get in her eyes too often, and muscles that she hadn't thought possible on her small frame, she was more than happy to wear outfits similar to the ones in the original video of the songs she covered. She didn't feel uncomfortable when she recorded outside, aware of the stares that were sent her way.

Between learning dances, doing the work necessary for her university course, and spending time with her friends, she delved into the world of other covers posted online. Although she always used the original music in her own videos, she particularly appreciated the singing covers, especially when the notes were held and hit well, not toned down to fit their capabilities.

The first time she received a comment from RienA, she'd stared at the verified symbol beside the username, equally surprised that she recognised him and that he'd noticed her at all.

 **RienA:  
** _gorgeous. seriously. i think i'm in love._

RienA was someone she listened to when she had free time; he uploaded covers on a regular basis, sometimes doing acoustic or piano versions instead of the normal upbeat songs. He'd been known for years, a popular user that cherished his fans and consistently took requests, even streaming and doing live requests every few months, something that she tried to stay up for since they were always late. For someone that never showed his face—not even linking to personal social media accounts—he was loved immensely online, and his covers often became popular hours after they were uploaded.

Shyly, Marinette replied to his comment.

 **MariCheng:  
** _I could say the same to you._

After that, he sent her a message on social media. It was a silly question about cats to break the ice between them in private, something that she laughed at and appreciated as his way of reaching out to her. His cat was notorious for ruining his attempts at recording by making high-pitched noises or scratching at the door, begging to be let in loud enough that it was heard on the microphone.

They started to talk a lot after that. The messages on social media shifted to instant messaging, the two of them growing more comfortable with each other. Marinette learned that he was just as dorky as she thought from the livestreams, complete with the terrible jokes and quick sense of humour, sometimes not thinking before he spoke.

After two months of consistently talking, he asked her to call him Adrien in private. They'd shared details with each other, of course, yet the show of trust had her smiling widely, promises of not revealing it on any of his platforms. Marinette knew that they were close in ages, that they'd be in the same year if they were in education together, although his birthday was in the first term, unlike hers at the end of the summer.

It took him a while to ask where she was from, and then proceed to question why her channel was fully in English. She shyly explained that it helped her with remembering the language, especially when she didn't speak it often, and it was from there that he helped supply her with words when she was audibly struggling to find the right one.

Adrien also revealed that he was originally from her country, but he'd moved away when he was barely a toddler, resulting in him barely knowing French. Sometimes, he tried to to speak it with her, but ended up groaning in frustration and switching back to English, the one he was most comfortable with. She didn't laugh at him, though, and offered to help him if he ever needed it.

It wasn't awkward between them with the slight language barrier at times. Marinette struggled to find the right words more often than not, fumbling and correcting herself, but she never grew annoyed when he tried to supply her with the right one. It was due to how he sounded when he tried to help her—not annoyed or frustrated with her as others had.

Although she'd had friends online before, the friendships often dwindled. It wasn't because of the language barrier; the others that she'd spoken to about dancing and covering different songs lost interest when they ran out of things to talk about, yet she found herself chatting to Adrien about anything and everything. He didn't mind if it was a completely random conversation, and when they slipped into more intimate topics, neither of them were uncomfortable.

Within six months, he'd firmly taken the position as her best friend, easily overtaking any of her friends that she had in person.

They consistently commented on each other's new uploads; either smashing keys and putting in a load of emoticons to show their enthusiasm, jokingly confessing their love to each other, or typing out inside jokes that only the two of them knew. It took a while for their fans to realise that they were, indeed, friends, and afterwards there was steady comments on either of their channels of each other's fans leaving specific phrases for each other.

As it turned out, there was a few hours time difference between them. Adrien had trouble waking up in the morning—which turned out to be almost midday for her—so Marinette took it upon herself to send him a message or attempt to call him via the internet, knowing that calling him normally would've been too expensive. They'd already looked through their options and realised that they needed to avoid doing that, something that he felt guilty for the rare times that he slept through her attempts and had to be pulled out of his sleep by his ringtone.

It was around then that she realised that her feelings had changed slightly; other than being overjoyed when his name popped up on her cell phone, or whenever a notification came that he wanted to talk, the smile that appeared at the mention of his name or the nervous fluttering of her heart wasn't normal.

It hit her suddenly when she preferred to stay home and talk to him for a few hours—even with their time difference—rather than go out with her friends to a party that she'd been looking forward to. Realising that she'd much prefer just to talk to him, a faceless friend that had wormed her way into her heart without warning, was a bit alarming.

It didn't change their relationship, though.

With them being so close, Adrien helped her calm down when she was worked up. She had the worst habit of jumping to conclusions too easily, getting riled up by rude comments or insults in her inboxes, and his sweet voice when they were on their nightly call helped her to ignore them. He told her silly stories about his black cat, Plagg, about his day or friends that were mostly unaware of his hobby (how it could be classed as that when he was such a popular uploader, she had no idea).

He liked his privacy. Adrien said it was because his home life was intrusive enough, a cryptic answer that she didn't push him to explain. When he started to come to her for song recommendations, even doing some of her requests, she asked for some of his in return, too. Adrien admitted that he'd been tempted to dance in the beginning, but knew that he had no talent for it and that it wouldn't work out.

“How come?” she questioned, leaning back in her chair. “I never took any lessons as a kid and I think I'm doing okay.”

Adrien's voice sounded through the speakers of her laptop. “Okay?” he questioned, incredulous. “I can't believe you're not actually studying dance. Seriously.”

She snorted. “You're just saying that because I can do the splits now.”

“I'm telling you, I need to see video evidence of that before I can believe you,” he replied, laughing.

Humming, Marinette closed one of the tabs that she had open. They'd been searching through different songs that they liked before the topic had dissolved into something else. “You just want me to spread my legs for you,” she sang, the teasing familiar between them.

He spluttered, words not coherent for a while due to his chortles, and only once he'd stopped laughing—the breathy, high-pitched version that showed that he was genuine—Adrien exhaled loudly. “You can't just say things like that without giving me a heart attack.”

The flirty tones of their conversations had appeared within three months; it had been subtle at first, barely there, but as soon as he was complimenting her appearance and claiming that she was an angel when they were talking in private, it was a bit hard to ignore.

Once she'd become aware of her feelings, she'd expected for the compliments to cease once he realised how flustered she became from hearing them, but that didn't happen. If anything, Adrien didn't notice the change; if her voice hitched and was aught on the microphone, he didn't bring it up, and he treated her the same as he always had.

She'd expected that her feelings were one-sided due to how private he was, really; Marinette liked his playful personality, the shy had vulnerable moments that he showed only to her, but he was a faceless person to her. Marinette didn't push him for information for himself further than what he was willing to offer, and he knew about her appearance from her videos, rather than from questioning her.

It was odd to accept at first, but she sometimes tried to picture how he'd look—to think of the curve of his nose, what his jawline would be like, or even the colour of his eyes. She didn't care about his height, whether there was softness to his stomach, not when she knew how sweet he could be.

She knew everything she needed to know about him to like him, truly.

So, Marinette didn't mind the flirty compliments or praising comments, and she returned them shyly, sometimes a bit worried that he'd catch onto the longing in her voice or the way she zoned out at times when he rewarded her with singing to her at random times of the day.

It must've been odd for one of her flat-mates to come home, only to hear a random male they hadn't heard of before belting out children's songs while she was cooking, though they were adjusting to it eventually.

With the two of them not being discreet at all with their comments on each other's channels or on social media, it was understandable that fans asked about their friendship. They were questioned whether they were dating or not a lot, something that neither of them actually replied to (especially not when Adrien was streaming, as he chose to cackle instead and switch the subject).

Yet, one of the best developments of their friendship was when the thought of their fans rooting for them to be a couple, prompting them both to leaving teasing comments on their new videos.

For a cover where Marinette wore shorts, Adrien's comment had her laughing until tears appeared in her eyes.

 **RienA:  
** _your thighs could kill me and i'd??? be fine?? with it???_

One of her favourites that she'd left on his was because he'd been singing outside on the phone to her, only to be caught in the rain unexpectedly.

 **MariCheng:  
** _This sounds so much better when you're not in the shower, Rien._

Although her friends from university weren't interested in her hobby, she still referred to Adrien as Rien to respect his privacy. It was already a big deal to her that he'd shard it at all, though she still found herself wondering other details about him. When her friends questioned who she was talking to whenever she had internet connection, she could only say the concrete things she knew about him: male, her age, and had a nice voice.

When the last comment had caused eyebrows to raise, she stopped adding that on after a while.

She knew his favourite foods, the specific songs he listened to when he had a bad day, and which video games he preferred to play when he had the spare time (he'd convinced her to download one, but she hadn't given in to joining him, other than creating an account), but she didn't actually know the details of his life.

So, that evening when they called each other with him using his expensive microphone and her with the one that was built into her laptop, she learned where he went to university, that his skin was considered pale at times, and that he had blond hair.

It was a lot more than anyone else online knew, but she wished that she was able to see him.

With him sending her pictures of Plagg and other sights he found amusing throughout his day for months, they had a routine where she'd return them, usually with a picture of herself pulling a displeased face when she had to ignore him in a class after she'd woken him up. They were quite dependant on each other despite the distance, a close friendship that she hadn't had with someone even when she was younger, and knowing that he'd let her prattle on and rant about anything without telling her to leave him alone did wonders for her self-esteem.

She listened to him in return, learning eventually that his father was considered famous in some way. He didn't elaborate on his job, give a name or any other clues, but that was enough to realise why Adrien was so reluctant to reveal his identity.

He spoke about the people he met in person sometimes, the ones that only wanted to get to know him because of his last name. There were times where he sounded like he was almost in tears after he'd gotten back late from classes, and felt increasing worse when she heard about the way they casually asked about his father's work or tried to gain Adrien's favour to further their future careers. It seemed shameless, really, and it was no wonder that he was so self-conscious about friends actually being honest with him.

“I know I only know you online, but if these idiots can't see what a nice person you are, they're not worth your time, Adrien,” she murmured, hearing the distinctive sound of him sniffing. “You're more than your father's son and if they can't see that, tell them to back the fuck off.”

As much as she wanted to pull him into a hug, she couldn't do that.

A weak laugh escaped him. “I could be totally different in person, you know?”

“Your face can't make your personality any worse,” she shot back, knowing that she didn't care about his looks. She'd long since stopped trying to picture different facial features, choosing not to torture herself from the curiosity any more. “And I'd only believe that if we'd only ever typed to each other; it's different now that I know how you sound outside of your videos.”

Outside of the bright and bubbly personality he put on when he streamed, he showed a lot more emotions, especially to her. The first time he'd called her up crying, seeking comfort, her breath had caught in her throat as she'd been uncertain on what to do. It turned out that just talking to him—telling him to blow his damn nose because she could hear him sniffing—was all that he needed, rather than someone to ignore him.

The first thing she did whenever she was upset was to call or message him. In the months since their friendship had started, she'd been smiling more, positive in the mornings when she took out her cell phone to wake him up, and excited whenever the incoming call notification came up, no matter which device it was on.

Within a year, they were definitely the closest person to each other. She wasn't jealous when he became friends with other users within his small social circle online, finding it easier to befriend others online when they weren't gawking at his famous connections.

The jealousy was reserved for when Adrien mused about maybe going on a date with someone, but he didn't go through with them often. Marinette kept herself tight-lipped, trying not to ruin their friendship from petty comment about wanting to spend time with him, and she knew that trying to pursue her feelings with him wouldn't work; he hadn't trusted her enough to show his picture, let alone bare the rest of his heart to her.

She was just a good friend. And she was fine with that, really, as long as he was happy.

So, when he was especially ecstatic when someone from their group chat—that was with other uploaders that were in the same circles as them—offered to mix a few of Adrien's songs or create particular arrangements for him, including acoustic versions that he'd been trying to find for the past few months, she wasn't annoyed when his replies came late for a few days.

He was doing what he loved, after all; he was able to sing without judgement and the anonymity of it all helped further the experience for him, even if he kept a few secrets from her.

Surprisingly, the jealousy actually came from his end when Nino, his composer friend that was doing the mixes for him, released a face reveal on his channel. As Marinette was aware of their friendship and had spoken to Nino a few times in the group chat—one that she chose to shy away from most of the time, preferring to keep to herself, only tabbing into it when she was mentioned by Adrien—they watched the video together.

“I know him,” Marinette blurted as soon as she'd seen the mixture of tanned skin, curly dark-coloured hair and headphones resting around his neck. “He goes to my university.”

Adrien might've sulked for a few hours, giving her non-committal responses. It seemed he felt betrayed because Nino hadn't mentioned his origins anywhere, and his channel had no hints of French in it.

She tried not to laugh. “You're just really bad at picking out accents, aren't you?”

“I can't tell what your accent is when you change language!” he shot back, frustrated. “How am I supposed to know? It's like everyone thinks they're a superhero with secret identities, just not telling me where they're actually from.”

She resisted the urge to say that he was one of the worst of all of them; whenever he streamed, the picture on the screen was only a recent one of Plagg, more often than not a ridiculous one that was terribly unflattering for the poor cat. It was the same with his icon on social media, too. The only fanart he received was of his cat, as she was the only one that was given information on how he looked.

With the knowledge that he was jealous that she lived closer to yet another person that wasn't him—he was in another country, after all—she had to marvel that it was the first time that anyone she knew online lived relatively close to her. The closest before had been hours away on the opposite side of the country, not attending the same university as her.

They were just in different classes and social groups, that was all. She didn't join the chat with Nino in it after his reveal, didn't try and start an awkward conversation in private because they'd never done that before, and it was two weeks later when she spotted him sipping a hot drink outside on a bench with his headphones on.

She sat down beside him, put one leg on top of the other and waited for him to notice that he wasn't alone any more.

Nino's eyes grew comically wide as he turned to look at her, pushing his headphones down to rest on his neck. “M-Mari?” he stuttered, voice a bit high-pitched due to the surprise.

“Hey,” she started, nodding at him in greeting, as though they'd done more than participated in the same chat together rarely. “I need you to tell Rien that you're not interested in being my new best friend or anything more.”

“I—what?” Nino spluttered, pushing his spectacles further up the bridge of his nose nervously. “Why would I need to say that?”

She snorted. “Because he's a dumbass who's too far away to fight you for the rights to being my best friend. So, you need to explicitly say that I'm not your type and make him stop worrying.”

He looked frazzled, to say the least. “I already have a girlfriend?”

“Excellent.” Her grin felt almost wolfish. “Shove that relationship in his face; loving pictures, go on rants about how nice her hair smells—do _everything_.”

Running a hand through his hair, Nino murmured, “You do know this is a weird first conversation, right?”

“Any friend of Rien's has to be a good person to put up with him,” Marinette explained, patting him sympathetically on the shoulder. “Also, my flat-mates are having a party this weekend. You're coming with your girlfriend.”

Not giving him a chance to answer, she stood up and straightened out her shirt, pleased that she'd accomplished her mission on a whim. She'd started to walk away after waving in his direction when she heard from behind her, “I don't even have your number to ask for details!”

“Talk to Rien first!” she called back, not turning around as she carried on walking.

Thankfully, it went as she had planned. Adrien brought up the topic of Nino later that evening, asking whether she knew of his girlfriend, and Marinette told him about the upcoming party that was happening at her flat. She usually stayed out of them, locking her bedroom door and putting her headphones on, but it was a chance to get to know one of Adrien's friends without him there butting into their chat every few minutes, demanding for attention.

So, it was that weekend that she was introduced to Alya. With tanned skin, curly red hair, and a sharp sense of humour, Marinette found herself becoming friends with her easily—and even liking Nino, too. They shared numbers after that evening, and Marinette found herself messaging Alya most of the time, and other than that, Alya quickly became one of her closest friends due to the amount of times they crossed paths of campus, both of them waving excitedly and spending time together.

She got closer to Nino because of it, too. After a few months Nino begrudgingly admitted in their group chat that he felt that Marinette was stealing his girlfriend more often than not—he'd become comfortable to use her full first name after they'd spoken properly in person—and that seemed to amuse Adrien to no end.

That was after reassuring Adrien that no one would take his place, of course.

It was almost endearing how he worried and fretted that he'd be replaced in a single evening, that she'd find someone better to spend time with, but it hinted that it had happened to him before. From what he'd told her about his lifestyle, it made sense. Still, she constantly sent him good morning messages with his title of best friend in it, even going as far as to countdown the time for their friendship anniversary (which made him laugh until he was wheezing).

For his birthday, Marinette managed to get his address to send a present. It had taken some convincing for him to tell her, though he only said that his surname began with the same letter as his first name, and he assured her that it was enough for it to be delivered to him.

She found the weirdest cat-related birthday card that she could find, settled with buying sweets that wouldn't go off before they got to him, and bought stuffed toys of his favourite characters from multiple cartoon series. When she caught sight of a ridiculous birthday hat, she included that in there, too, sealing it up and lugging it towards her local post office.

It arrived three days after his birthday—sadly—but it was worth it. Adrien was on call with her when it came on the weekend, and his excited voice when he realised what he was holding in his hands made it absolutely worth the large amount of money it had cost to ship it.

“Even your handwriting is pretty,” he cooed when he inspected the card, the microphone picking up all the sounds. “This is best card I've ever gotten.”

She laughed. “You mean because it's the most obscure? It doesn't even have any printed text on the inside.”

“It's not generic and just picked off the shelf, though,” Adrien pointed out, sounding beyond pleased as the sound of him touching the wrapping paper reached her ears. “You specifically looked for it.”

“Well, yeah,” she admitted, feeling a bit shy. “Since I can't be there with you, I just wanted to make you happy. I'm—I didn't expect for it to be so late, I'm sorry.”

An excited noise left him as he ripped over some of the paper. “Don't you dare be sorry for—fuck, you got me _this_? Marinette—”

They were equally excited for each other when they both graduated university. The day before Marinette had to move out of her flat and go back to her parents' home, they ended up watching a film online, taking a shot of alcohol whenever something specific happened. It turned out to be a terrible idea by almost halfway through, as she was slurring her words and laughing far too loudly, causing her flat-mates to bang on the walls to tell her to shut up.

He let it slip that he lived at home, but his father was out so he wouldn't be judged for the alcohol that he'd spilled down his shirt.

That didn't stop him from ranting about it, though. “It's _blasphemy_ if I have so much as a stitch out of place, I—it just fucking sucks, you know? Like, yeah, I have an unironed shirt, but I'm allowed to live my life without people gawking at my fashion choices,” Adrien prattled on, sounding exhausted rather than angry. “I had a paragraph in a magazine because I wore my t-shirt backwards before.”

She made an unflattering noise. “Screw that! You should wear something awful on purpose.”

“I tried to go outside with a dick drawn on my t-shirt once, but I got caught,” Adrien said through his laughter, wheezes making it hard to pick out his words.

When she woke up terribly hungover in the morning, she stared at her cell phone with heavy eyes. Her laptop was left on and making a strange noise, as it always did when it had been on for more than six hours, and the light coming in from the window meant that she hadn't bothered to close the curtains.

All of that paled in comparison when she opened the first message and saw a picture of Adrien.

The smile he had could only be described as goofy, most likely due to how drunk he'd been. The blond hair he'd told her he had skimmed the top of his ears, messily swept across his forehead without a clear parting. The main thing she picked up from the image, other than that he was attractive, was that he had dimples when he smiled.

That seemed like a big thing to tell someone.

So, when she sent him a message to wake him up after she'd finished loading her belongings into her parents' car, it was just filled with compliments for the indents on his cheeks.

He replied a few minutes later that it almost sounded like poetry.

Adrien was more open to sending pictures of himself after that; she learned that the corner of his eyes crinkled when he sincerely smiled, that his irides were green, and when he grew embarrassed, his ears matched the redness that appeared on his cheeks.

She made a dying noise the first time he sent her a shirtless picture with innocent intentions—he'd fallen over and a large bruise had appeared on his ribs, he was asking her for her opinion—but she retaliated by sending a shot of her body in the tight outfit she was wearing for her next video.

It did nothing to smother her crush on him. If anything, seeing him so open in his pictures that came almost every day caused it to grow even worse; though, she supposed, even if he'd been unattractive, it wouldn't have caused her to like him any less. The crush was quickly approaching one of the longest ones she'd ever held, the infatuation not withering when she saw him make ugly faces or sing off-key on purpose, and the songs he left on her voicemail to cheer her up made her face feel warm.

The main difference was that it didn't feel juvenile. She liked him—so much, impossibly so—but it didn't cause her to sweat nervously or rub her clammy hands on her clothing before she spoke to him, not like it had been with her teenage crushes in the past. With Adrien, she felt comfortable enough to show him her bad hairstyles, the creases left from her pillows when she woke up in the morning, and tell him the embarrassing details of her life.

And, considering that he'd shared almost everything about his life with her in return, she hoped that he felt somewhat the same. She knew that she was a close friend, more so than anyone he knew in person, but it was still a special position.

The next time they got drunk together, when she was trying to be quiet as to not wake her parents up in the other room, she might've raved enthusiastically about how precious their friendship was, boldly claiming that she'd challenge anyone that tried to take her place.

When it came time for her birthday, she was greeted by a large box in the living room addressed to her. She'd expected it since he had had the foresight to send her birthday present to her parents' home, and ask for the address, but the sheer size of it had caused her to gape awkwardly at it.

She passed her phone over to her mother and asked her to take pictures as she unwrapped it, and when she plucked out designer clothes from within, the picture fully captured how shocked she was.

Included was a lot of silly things; sweets to match what she sent, a funny card, and a large cat-shaped pillow that was there to replace her lack of a pet. It didn't stop her from being terrified of looking up the price of the small pile of clothes that he'd gotten her, though.

“This—this is too much,” Marinette said immediately when he answered her online call later that day. “I—what am I supposed to do with this? This probably costs more than my whole wardrobe as it is. What if I get a stain on one of them? I'd _die_.”

Adrien laughed fondly. “It's okay, really. They're kind of leftovers? I asked to keep them since they seemed near to your size. I think they probably would've been thrown away otherwise.”

“ _Leftovers_?” she wheezed. “How—”

“My father's a celebrity, remember?”

She ran a hand through her hair. From what he'd said it sounded like that, yes, but they'd never spoken about it for an extended amount of time—it was usually just in passing before they changed topic. “But I don't even know who he is!” she insisted, sounding more overwhelmed than she was feeling. “I can't believe you just stole these for me.”

“I asked before swiping them, it's absolutely fine,” he tried to reassure her, and she had to wonder what his expression was like. They hadn't upgraded to video calls, so she'd only seen his expression from still pictures. “There's a stitch or two out of place on them, but it's on the inside so it's not noticeable. That's why they wouldn't be sold.”

The clothes were all from the brand _Gabriel_. Marinette respected his privacy and didn't look into the name further, her interest only piqued when she saw the stores that sold the brand throughout the city. There was a billboard or two for it, too, something that she hadn't paid too much attention to in the past. She'd never been too interested in fashion until she'd tried to match her outfits in videos to the original ones, which usually had her searching through her nearest stores for the items.

It helped that after a few years, she had started taking donations, enough to afford the large amount of clothes in her wardrobe and the occasional splurge on food.

She picked up a local job as a receptionist to save money to move into her own place, posting covers more frequently than when she'd been studying. Marinette had the luck of a large window in her bedroom, so the lighting wasn't too bad when she was recording. Her parents didn't seem to mind the noise of her stomping sometimes, though they did leave bottle of water by her door which made her a bit embarrassed.

Life after graduation wasn't so easy for Adrien.

After moving back to his family home, in the large bedroom that looked almost as big as her whole floor back in university, Adrien got a job in a coffee-shop for a few weeks before he was fired because someone kept coming to take pictures of him.

“This is ridiculous,” he moaned through his microphone, the squeak of his chair audible. “Am I not allowed to have a normal job, is that it? I am supposed to ride off of my father's fame forever and beg him for a job?”

She made a sympathetic noise, uncertain on how to comfort him. “Have you ever thought of auditioning on a singing show?”

“Fuck no,” Adrien answered immediately. “They'd just fawn over my last name. Agreste this, Agreste that—”

Before she could stop herself, she blurted, “Your surname's Agreste?”

There was a moment of silence where she wondered whether she'd really messed up due to him not talking, but he broke it by quietly asking, “Did you really not know?”

“Well, no,” Marinette started awkwardly, fiddling with her fingers. “You're really private so I didn't push it any further. I didn't even search anything about _Gabriel_ , and it's not like I really pay attention to magazines and stuff to see if you're mentioned there.”

“Oh.” It was so soft that she almost missed it. “I thought you already knew, honestly.”

She let out an awkward laugh. “What can I say? I'm stubborn in the best ways.”

As was her crush, unfortunately.

“You really are,” Adrien murmured, fondness seeping into his voice. “I just—it's insane that we've known each other for over two years now, isn't it?”

It was odd to think about at times. If he hadn't commented on her video, they would've never started talking properly, and he would've never invited her into a group chat where she met Nino and Alya (who she was still talking to since university had ended). For the past two years, a large majority of the good things that had happened in her life had been because of him; the endless smiles whenever they messaged each other, or the way they were able to share intimate parts of their lives without being too embarrassed.

His voice interrupted her thoughts with, “Want to take the next step?”

“That sounds like you're trying to convince me to make a suicide pact with you,” she blurted. “As much as I like you, I think I like my life more.”

“First of all, rude,” Adrien said with an exaggerated noise of disapproval. “I meant—oh, fuck it, it'll just be easier to show you.”

If she hadn't been looking at the screen on her laptop, she would've missed it. Where there was usually only the picture of his cat had been replaced with a shot of his webcam, the image a bit grainy as he sat there on his chair, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck.

Seeing him in motion was a lot different to know she thought it would be. It made sense that she wouldn't only see his good poses and the intentionally ugly expressions that he pulled, but to see him shift on his seat awkwardly as he waited for her to say anything—to see his lips _moving—_ was something else entirely.

She cleared her throat to stall for a bit when he called her name.

“I—I'm here,” Marinette stuttered out, reaching out for her mouse and clicking the button to put hers on, too. When her picture had loaded and showed her equally average webcam—not the high-quality camera she used to record—she shyly raised a hand up and waved to him. “Hey.”

He made a strangled sort of sound. “You're cute.”

That was the best reaction she'd ever gotten to her looks before.

They started using their webcams a lot more after that. Although she was the only person online that he sent pictures to—something she felt proud of whenever she realised how close they were despite the distance—she learned that he was opening up to Nino more, especially after she'd actually became friends Nino since his face reveal.

At the start of the winter, she moved into an apartment with Nino and Alya. The couple offered her the second bedroom since they knew that she was looking into getting a place of her own. As Marinette felt comfortable enough to call Alya her second closest friend after they'd gotten to know each other, she accepted.

It was a lot bigger than what they should've been able to afford after just graduating. With her monthly budget being helped with donations and the income from her videos, along with her job, and Nino experiencing the same thing, they splurged instead of going for the cheapest that they could find.

Alya was a little upset about the arrangement, though.

“I feel like I'm not doing enough around here,” she lamented, dramatically draped over Marinette's lap as they watched a television show. “I'm so out of place here—I do _nothing_.”

When she moved in, she learned that there was only two bedrooms. Rather than using the second for guests or storage, they invited her to live there, and Marinette was delighted at the size of the room. There was enough for the full-length mirror that she'd lugged from university back to her home, and her bed had been shoved beside the wall to allow her enough room to dance comfortably.

The view from the window wasn't too bad; it had nice light sometimes, but most of the time she had to use the ones she kept stored in her closet for the most part.

Nino had taken over the desk in his and Alya's bedroom, his equipment taking up most of the room. Alya didn't seem too bothered by it, however, and used her laptop in the living room. The only problem seemed to be when Marinette disappeared for hours either before or after work to study a new routine, only appearing when she desperately needed a shower, or when Nino was too immersed in a new song he was creating to pay attention to her.

At first, Alya tried to fill her time alone with cooking. She had dinner ready for all three of them, either waiting to be heated up or placed on the table ready to be eaten, and she was stubborn about trying to do all of the cleaning herself.

So, to hear her complain that she was useless didn't sit well with Marinette.

Reaching over to flick her friend's forehead, Marinette scolded, “Don't be ridiculous. You do more than enough here, idiot. There's no reason for you to try and take care of us all the time.”

“It's how I show my love,” Alya retorted, slapping her hand lightly. “Go talk to your lover boy if you're going to be like that.”

“Rien's not—”

Alya interrupted with a scoff. “ _Adrien_ ,” she stressed, having heard Marinette and Nino say it enough times to know that it was how they referred to him frequently, “is probably missing you right now—he's like a puppy.”

“We could get you a puppy if you're lonely,” Marinette mused, only joking a little bit. She'd wondered whether it would be a good idea for a while, but she hadn't brought it up with her friends.

“Allergic,” Alya said, pointing to herself. “And I'm already having to fight for my boyfriend's affections. I'd lose to a cute animal in _seconds_.”

She snorted. “I think Nino loves you more than puppies.”

“But does he love me more than kittens, Mari?”

-x-

The first step of trying to get over her feelings for Adrien—that had lasted for two _years—_ wasn't ignoring him. She didn't want to damage their friendship from trying to fix how she felt, but it was a bit difficult to stomach it when she realised that he hadn't been interested in anyone romantically since they'd met.

He'd been busy focusing on his education before they graduated, and since then, he said that he just hadn't met the right person. Adrien preferred to keep to himself, rejecting dates when he was asked, and it was also because of that that she'd decided enough was enough.

Finding a date wasn't hard, surprisingly. Marinette arrived at the restaurant that she was told to go to wearing boots and tight trousers, a flattering outfit that Nino had jokingly whistled at when she strolled through their living room.

Her date was a friend of a friend (or, rather; a friend of Alya's co-worker), so she didn't have too many expectations, but seeing them turn up wearing sweatpants definitely hadn't been a concern.

Marinette felt overly dressed in comparison.

It wasn't that he wasn't nice, though; her date was eager to talk about everything, but he had no tact when he did so. When there was a few too many comments about the waitress and what the surrounding patrons looked like—or even what they were wearing, ignoring the fact that he'd turned up in too casual clothing himself—Marinette didn't hesitate bringing her phone out when her date excused himself to the bathroom.

She was all smiles when her date returned, the device slipped back into her bag as though nothing had happened.

The sound of her ringtone came abruptly ten minutes later, exactly on time.

“Sorry, this might be important,” she murmured, tucking her hair behind her ear and offering her date an apologetic smile as she held the phone up. “Hello?”

“You asked me to be dramatic, but I'm not really sure why?” came Adrien's voice, the English a stark difference to her evening. “Am I saving you from an awkward situation with your parents or something?”

She breathed in loudly. “What—what did you say happened?”

“Oh.” He hummed, a brief pause before he continued on to say, “I don't know what you just said, so I'm just going to say anything.”

“ _No_ ,” Marinette replied, widening her eyes for a better effect as she ran a hand through her hair, trying to look as frazzled as she needed to. “Is she—she's still breathing, right?”

He snorted. “I can tell that you're trying to be really emotional right now.”

“That's terrible.”

Adrien made a noise of agreement. “If only I paid attention to my French lessons.”

“I-I'll be right there, okay?” she said in a rush, reaching for her belongings and getting out her wallet. Before Adrien could reply, she pressed her phone to her neck, trying to muffle the noise as she looked across to her date and said, “I'm sorry, I—I really need to go. It's an emergency.”

To her surprise, her date declined her offer to pay for the meal, insisting that it was no problem for him to cover the expense.

Her cover only became shaky when her date walked her to the door of the restaurant before tentatively asking what had happened.

Of all the things she could've replied—grandmother, even one of her parents—all that came out was, “My cat fell down the stairs.”

She might've ran away quickly, stumbling a bit from her heels. Once she'd gotten round the corner, steadily walking back home with her cheeks burning from embarrassment, she put the phone back to her ear to hear that Adrien was still waiting on the other end of the line, amusing himself by watching a video of some sort.

“Adrien?” she called out for his attention.

His reply came instantly, “Oh, you're back!”

“Yeah,” Marinette confirmed, swallowing. “Thanks for doing that. I was a bit worried that you might've been too busy to bail me out.”

“It's no problem.” She could hear the grin in his voice. He'd always insisted that international calls weren't too much of a problem for him, but she still felt a bit bad when he stayed on the line for an extended period of time when either of them was outside. “What was that about? I could only hear your end of the conversation, and it sounded like you said you had a cat. I think you did, at least.”

She laughed. “I had a cat for all of two seconds, but it fell down the stairs and might've stopped breathing.”

“I'm never letting you near Plagg,” Adrien replied. “Was it a meeting for work or something? I thought you had these hours off.”

It was only natural for them to know each other's schedules. Back when he'd been working at a café, she'd even written down his hours so she could wake him up at the right time. “I—no,” she admitted quietly, fiddling with the strap of her bag as she reached her street. “I was on a date.”

There was a beat of silence, filled only with the beating of her heart which she was sure was from her fast walking pace, before he questioned, “What?”

“He was a bit of a prat, honestly,” Marinette confessed, frowning as she thought back to the comments at the restaurant. “I asked for your help to get out when he was in the bathroom. So, thank you for actually getting back to me.”

“A date,” Adrien repeated, quieter than before. “You... I didn't know anything about that.”

As much as she wanted to fantasise and wonder whether he was jealous that her affections had been elsewhere for the evening, he already knew that she wasn't interested, therefore the reason for the questioning was because she'd kept a secret. Marinette had been honest all along about the sloppy kisses she'd received at parties, the attention that she brushed off over the time that they'd known each other, and that her last relationship had been before they were friends.

She fiddled with the hairs at her neck as she climbed the stairs to her apartment. “I didn't want to get my hopes up about it, that's why I didn't tell you.”

“I don't understand.”

“It's just—I tell you _everything_ ,” came pouring out, her voice weak and sounding as insecure as she was sure she looked at that moment. “I wanted one thing to keep to myself in case something went wrong, okay? I don't even know the guy, not really; it's a friend of Alya's co-worker, so I probably won't ever see him again.”

Adrien's reply was as equally soft-spoken. “You're scared of telling me that you like someone?”

That wasn't it at all. She was terrified of harbouring one-sided feelings for him for an extended period of time, so telling him about dates where she tried to project her frustrations that no one was him didn't seem like a good idea. Alya and Nino hadn't agreed not to keep the date a secret, hadn't even asked if Adrien knew about it at all, and she knew it was because the two of them had assumed that she'd tell Adrien everything beforehand.

“No,” she whispered thickly. “I'm scared of admitting that no one compares to you.”

It was as close to a confession that she'd ever gotten; more than her drunken waxing about his face, or the stupid poetry she'd done of his dimples per his request after the first time.

“Marinette,” he called, barely audible above the sound of her keys as she unlocked her door. “It's okay not to be in love with anyone, you do know that, right?”

She stilled, gripping the door handle. “What?”

“I mean, it's pretty normal,” Adrien continued. “Being in a relationship isn't everything in life. You're allowed to be content just by yourself rather than living for someone else. If talking to me makes you happier than any dates, then there's nothing wrong with that.”

A choked breath escaped her.

Sometimes, she wondered what she'd done to deserve such a pure-hearted friend that looked through her vulnerable comments and came to a different conclusion that she'd originally dreaded. As embarrassing as it could've been for him to acknowledge her feelings, the fact that he was trying to comfort her made her like him even more.

It was an endless cycle, apparently, one that always led back to him.

“For example, look at me,” he quipped, voice growing steadily stronger until he was talking at normal volume. “I haven't had sex since my last relationship, and that was more than three years ago.”

The one word that left her lips was high-pitched. “Sex?”

“I'm not a fan of casual sex,” Adrien confirmed with no shame whatsoever, talking as though they were on about the weather rather than sexual activities. “I have to actually like the person to want to get them naked, and do you know how rare that is for me? Horribly so, I tell you, but I'm okay with waiting until I find someone that actually wants to commit to me.”

It was hard to imagine someone that wouldn't want to spend time with him, to know him intimately, and share all aspects of their life.

When she voiced that aloud, he laughed fondly. “That's where you and others disagree; through university, I never made it past the second date before I gave up looking entirely. Then, I met you, and I'm happier now than I ever have been.”

“Oh,” was all that she could say in response, throat feeling tight as she processed the words.

“I'd rather spend time with you than try and awkwardly flirt with someone, even if you are across the ocean from me,” Adrien confessed happily, not at all aware of the reaction his words had to her. “And to hear that you feel the same makes me wonder whether we should have matching friendship necklaces. That's what kids have to show they're best friends for life, right?”

She—she didn't want to be saddled with the title of best friend forever, but there was barely any chance of that changing for the better in the foreseeable future. As much as she wanted to confess, to choke out the words that she was possibly in love with him, she didn't want to damage their friendship by pressuring him for an answer. What if he thought that he had to say yes to keep her as a friend?

Her eyes felt hot, throat scratchy and uncomfortable as she tried to swallow to quell the feeling, and as she blinked rapidly to get rid of the moisture that had appeared, all she could whisper was, “I think kids have moved onto bracelets nowadays.”

“It sounds like I need to do some research to get us the best ones, then.”

As her breath hitched when she breathed in, loud enough for him to surely hear, Marinette quickly said that she'd message him later and ended the call before he could figure out that she was crying.

Swiping at her wet eyes, she muttered bitterly, “So much for trying to get over him.”

-x-

It wasn't friendship bracelets that they got.

Marinette had accepted the small parcel that was delivered, staring at the designer logo that was on the front of the pastel-coloured box when she opened the first part of the packaging, somehow forgetting his tendency to splurge for gifts that he sent her.

Adrien's idea of matching each other was far more expensive than she'd anticipated, and it required a lot more effort, too. She'd stared at the pair of earrings in the box for a large amount of time, wondering whether she was imagining that they looked like a normal pair of studs, apart from the sparkly part in the centre of each, before Alya came in and gawked at the logo on the front of them.

Since Nino had become Adrien's second closest friend—and was explicitly told that he'd never overtake Marinette, not even if he told Adrien ridiculous stories about what Marinette had done in their apartment—it made sense that Alya had befriended him, too.

Alya dragged her to get her ears pierced once on each earlobe, and when she walked back outside into the winter air, her ears were stinging from the newly acquired studs in them.

Adrien sent her a picture later that evening, showing that he'd done the same with his earlobes, too. He showed them off when they turned their webcams on later that evening, tucking his hair behind his ears the best he could, despite the short length, to show them off with the way the lamp was lighting his room.

“This is so much better than a bracelet, right?” he questioned, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

She had her face hidden in her hands as she said, “This is just like couple rings, but really expensive ones that we've put into our ears. I just purposely hurt myself for you.”

“It's a blood pact from miles apart,” Adrien sang.

“These probably cost more than my rent, Adrien.”

He laughed, the sound genuine and loud. “It's fine, I didn't actually pay for them myself. My bank account's nice and safe.”

She spluttered, “You're jobless and gloating about receiving expensive gifts.”

“I actually have a job interview next week, thank you.” He sniffed, the sound exaggerated. “And it was a bribe from one of my father's newest employees to take the blame for breaking an expensive vase. As you can tell, I'm an honourable person that decided to use their suffering to my advantage.”

“...You can't just get your father's terrified minions to buy you designer jewellery,” she murmured.

The laugh he let out could only be described as a cackle. “I can if they're a homophobic asshole.”

“Should I even be surprised that you know that about them?”

“It was a tip from a higher source, but no.” The grin was audible in his voice. “I've been waiting to see how they'd fuck up, but this is even better.”

Adrien kept her updated for two weeks with the state of the newest assistant's job, telling her of the way his father stared at them for an extended period of time while waiting for the report to be read out, and Marinette had to wonder why Adrien was allowed in the meetings at all. From what she knew, he wasn't involve in his father's business, and he wasn't qualified to be there from a business view.

The news stopped coming when Adrien moved to an apartment, happy to be out of his family home, away from his father's stares over breakfast and the awkward encounters where they came across each other late in the evening. Adrien showed her a tour of his new place on his phone, excitedly pointing out every door and corner, the different cupboards in the kitchen, and even being excited that some appliances were included.

It was a lot bigger than the home she shared with Alya and Nino.

Before she could stop herself, Marinette blurted, “How are you affording this?”

He blinked. “Money from my videos? I got rejected for my last job interview, so there's no added income from that.”

There was a large difference between them. While Marinette received non-steady views, the numbers only spiking when she covered a particularly popular song, it seemed like nothing when compared to RienA, who had been active on the site for years before she'd come along. His donation page received a lot more, too, but she'd never asked him exactly how much he made before.

“Oh,” he said, drawing out the word, facial features shifting in realisation as he held the phone to face him. “All of this is with my own money, if that's what you're asking. I've just been waiting to find a good place where Plagg won't get run over if he happens to make it out one of the windows.”

“You're high up, Plagg will fucking die if he gets out of a window,” she deadpanned.

He whistled. “He'd make such an impressive noise, too.”

“You're supposed to love him.”

“He's refusing to come out of the pet carrier right now, so there's no chance of him loving me any time soon,” Adrien admitted, shrugging his shoulders. “Now that I'm here, I have something to ask you.”

She hummed, prompting him to continue with a nod of her head.

Grinning, his dimples showed as he continued on to ask, “Want to collaborate with me?”

Marinette stared openly at the screen, eyes focusing on the earrings that were visible on his lobes. “What?”

“I've been wanting to ask for a while, but now seems like the right time to ask, doesn't it?” Adrien questioned brightly, sounding as excited as he looked. “We've been friends for so long but we haven't done any videos together.”

Ignoring how her stomach felt tight at the thought, she pointed out, “We live in different countries.”

“That doesn't stop Nino from working together with me sometimes,” he pointed out. “I don't mean being in it together—you know I don't want to show my face and all—but we've entertained the thought of you dancing to my version of a song before, haven't we?”

That wasn't a lie. They'd toyed with the idea before, never quite committing to it. “We can't just post the same video on both of our channels.”

“That's why we'll do _two_.” His smile reached his eyes. “I really want to do something with you, and this way we'll both benefit from it.”

She ran a hand through her hair. “Isn't that a bit ambitious for our first project together?”

“Oh, you haven't seen any ambition yet,” Adrien said, leaning back in his chair. “We could have a group name and use it whenever we post something together. I tried to get Nino to do that with me, but he said that mixing my songs doesn't count as him being involved enough to warrant a clique name.”

It was such a ridiculous idea, but she had to laugh when she realised it was something he really would do. “Please don't say you're going to make us matching t-shirts or anything.”

“Marinette,” he said with a gasp, dramatically placing a hand over his heart. “We've already got our matching earrings.”

She reached up to fiddle with the jewellery mentioned. “I can't believe you actually talked me into that.”

“I'm really persuasive when I want to be.” He winked. “Now, got any song requests that you really want to do? I'm open to butchering the French language completely, if that's what you want to do.”

The planning took almost a week.

At first, it was because they couldn't decide on whether to do a song in a foreign language to the both of them—what Marinette usually danced to—before learning that Adrien was awful at picking up new languages, even more so than his attempts at French. Then, when they tried to pick a popular song that was played on the radio over where he lived, the dilemma they had was that there wasn't any dance routine to go with it.

So, they decided to go all out for it. They were already being ambitious by choosing to do two videos together, and they settled with the decision to have both of them be from beloved childhood films, animated ones that had musical numbers that were well known within them. They chose out their favourites that Adrien hadn't covered before, then for the slower of the two that they picked, Marinette helped him to sing half the song in French.

His pronunciation was the worst at first, but having him on speaker so Nino and Alya could hear him in another room made it enjoyable.

As there wasn't any dance moves involved in the films, Marinette checked some of the performances to see whether any had been added before trying to make her own routines. As she wasn't trained, it was a bit awkward and clunky at times, but Adrien watched and gave her criticism, trying to help the best he could.

“Why am I doing this?” Marinette bemoaned one afternoon as she slumped against her bed, sweat causing her shirt to cling uncomfortably to her skin.

Adrien's laughter filled the room. “Because you love me.”

It was too true. “Yeah, I do,” she whispered softly, pushing her hair away from her face. “But you're the one that picked a ridiculous villain song to make me dance to out of nowhere.”

“If I remember correctly, this was _your_ choice,” he pointed out smugly. “And you're going to look fantastic in your villain outfit when you record it. I definitely want to post it on my account.”

She snorted. “You just want my thighs as your thumbnail.”

Adrien whistled, a feat that she couldn't do. “I'd have them as my wallpaper if you'd let me.”

As her face was already warm from dancing, she didn't have to worry about a blush appearing from remembering that the background on her phone was a picture of Plagg crawling over his face, covering his features so only his blond hair was visible.

“Go ahead, if you want,” she said, a bit more high-pitched than usual. “I—I wouldn't mind since it's you.”

“Oh.” He sounded surprised, the noise of his clothing moving picked up as he reached for his own phone. “Well, I think I have just the right picture saved. Hang on a moment.”

When he held the screen up to his webcam, showing that he'd indeed set his background to a picture of her in tiny shorts that she'd sent him months earlier, she buried her face in her hands and made an embarrassed sound.

Adrien laughed and cooed, “You're so cute, Marinette.”

It made her face feel even warmer.

In the end, it took them three weeks to record everything and get it ready for posting. Marinette decided to record outside, dragging Alya or Nino along to make sure her camera wouldn't be stolen while she was dancing, and it was after sending Adrien pictures of her selection of possible locations that she was able to get the footage with two days of work. As much as she'd considered bringing a change of clothing and swapping outfits in a public toilet, she didn't in the end.

From all the choices of how to put their names in the title, they settled with the simplest one in the end; both of their usernames with a forward slash between them, rather than going with a strange group name.

After working on it for a month—within which Marinette posted only one video herself, and Adrien only did streams at the weekends—they posted them without any warning. As much as he'd wanted to tease the videos with pictures of Marinette's outfits, especially the villain-related one, she talked him out of it.

Within two weeks, the slower song became the most viewed video on her account. Adrien's had almost triple the views, his usual numbers, but hers caused her to call him up early one morning and talk far too fast for him to understand properly when she'd received a large donation due to their collaboration.

“You have no reason to thank me, Marinette,” Adrien said after he'd woken up, no longer interrupting himself to yawn. “You did most of the work here.”

She scoffed. “We both know that's a lie.”

“Okay, it was an equal effort, but I wasn't the one dressing up and making my own dance routines that were amazing, even if you didn't listen to my suggestions most of the time,” he corrected with a laugh.

“The villain song's already exciting enough, it doesn't need a backflip,” Marinette defended herself again, having lost count of the amount of times they'd brought it up.

He made a noise of disagreement. “But your channel needs one.”

“It's posted on _yours_!”

“Look, I'm just saying,” Adrien started, sounding as though he'd been awake for hours rather than less than fifteen minutes. “I can guarantee that there's more people than just me that want to see you doing flips and shit.”

Marinette exhaled audibly. “You've never even seen me do one.”

“True, but you made the mistake of telling me that you know how to do one, now I'm demanding proof in the form of a video,” he pointed out excitedly. “How about we make a deal? You take a video of it and I'll do anything you want.”

She hummed, drawing out the noise and making it as dramatic as possible. If they'd been on webcam, she would've stroked her chin for added effect, as she knew it made him laugh. “Anything?”

“Anything,” he vowed.

The day after she uploaded a twenty second video of her doing a backflip, which included Nino and Alya screaming in the background as the camera shook, Adrien posted him singing nursery rhymes while drunk with her laughing on the call, cheering him along.

Her comment was similar to one she'd typed so many times in the past months.

 **MariCheng:  
** _I love you, dork._

-x-

“So, you haven't gone on a date in a while,” Adrien started one evening when they were watching a film they'd downloaded together. It was awful quality, the camera shook because it had been taken illegally, but they were making do by having their video call in the corner of their screens.

Marinette adjusted the blanket around her, almost knocking her drink over with her elbow. “I only went on one?”

“Which was a while ago,” he repeated, eyes darting towards the camera before they went back to watching the film. “And didn't you get given a number a few days ago?”

Sometimes, she wondered whether keeping small details of her life to herself would've been a good idea. “I did,” she confirmed, remembering the guy that she'd been beside in a long queue at a café the other day. “I'm not interested, though. I only felt like I had to take it since he made awkward conversation with me for ten minutes while we waited to order our drinks.”

“To be fair, if I was in a queue beside you, I'd also try and talk to you,” he quipped, lips curling into a smile that was shown from the brightness of his screen. As it was supposed to be a horror film, he'd insisted on turning off their lights, including any lamps they had in their bedrooms. “No one's caught your eye, then?”

Her smile was secretive as she answered, “Not recently.”

“That's—I'm happy about that,” Adrien said quietly, voice only audible due to the eerie music on that part of the film, just before a dramatic scene appeared. “Does that make me a bad person?”

She wetted her lips.

There wasn't any point in jumping to conclusions with him, she knew that. So, she confessed right back, “I'll probably be upset when you start dating someone, even if you try and warn me beforehand.”

“I can't even imagine spending a lot time with someone that's not you,” he mused, leaning forward and resting his chin on his palm.

Sometimes, when she'd spent the evening drinking with Nino and Alya, she blurted out all her feelings about Adrien, updating them on her pitiful one-sided crush that seemed to be staying with her forever. Alya had taken it upon herself to try and convince Marinette to confess, just so she wasn't harbouring the feelings as a secret after such a long time, but the idea had only made Marinette laugh until she had tears in her eyes.

It had taken Adrien over a year to show himself to her, and she doubted he'd ever fully bare his heart in a way that was more than friendship.

But it was fine, really. Marinette could cope with being his best friend, updating her on all the parts of his life, but the thought of trying to smother her feelings when someone walked in and aroused romantic feelings for him was terrifying. The Adrien she knew was someone that wasn't interested in anyone, and he was someone that she didn't have to share.

She didn't want him to send stupid pictures of Plagg on his face to anyone but her.

“Me, too,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around herself. “But don't you want someone close that you can do things with?”

He was purposely not looking into the camera or down to where she knew her image was on his screen. “Not when I know I'd have a better time with you, regardless of who it's with.”

She swallowed. “I wish we lived closer.”

“I wish we were at least in the same time zone,” Adrien murmured, eyes flickering to where his curtains were covering the sunlight streaming into his room. “I... I could always come see you, if you want.”

 _See_ her? Marinette stared at the screen, processing the words in as much silence as the film offered. Adrien, the same private friend that had kept his face secret from Nino until a few months ago—when Nino had walked into her room and seen her video call—and had opened up slowly to her, hadn't brought up the topic of visiting each other before.

It was a given that he didn't want to visit any conventions, and Marinette never had much interest in them. And due to how he liked his privacy, Marinette hadn't looked up flights before to toy with the idea of visiting him, not when she knew that he'd most likely wouldn't agree to it.

So, to have him offering to do so while shyly keeping her gaze averted from her had her smiling widely as she whispered, “Really?”

“Yes?” It sounded like a question, and he paused to clear his throat. “I—I'd like to? I mean, I'd need you to act as a translator since I'm really bad at French, and I'm pretty sure I'd get lost just trying to get to any hotel I book.”

“Hotel?” she parroted.

He blinked. “I have to stay somewhere?”

“You—you could stay with us?” Marinette offered, nervously biting the inside of her cheek. “It might be a bit of a tight squeeze with four of us, but the flight's probably going to be expensive, and it would save you some money. Well, other than food and other expenses—”

Adrien was running a hand though his hair nervously as he interrupted her to ask, “Don't you only have two beds?”

She laughed nervously. “I think we have a inflatable somewhere that I could use if you're not comfortable sharing?”

Loudly, he questioned, “You'd share your bed with _me_?”

“Well, yeah?” She was sure that she was more than capable of sleeping beside him in a platonic way. “It would just be like a sleepover that lasts a few days. I definitely like you enough to let you sleep with me.”

Adrien tried to reply, but ended up coughing until his face was visibly red. He finished the rest of his drink after he'd calmed himself down, looking a bit frazzled as he replied, “I think you're trying to kill me.”

She tilted her head to point to the bed that she was resting on. “It's a double, so there's more than enough room for the both of us.”

“I—”

Once she'd caught up to what she was offering, realising that there was a chance that she was making him feel uncomfortable due to how forward she was being, Marinette quietly offered, “I'm not trying to force you into anything. As I said, I can give you the bed and sleep elsewhere.”

Adrien rested his cheek on his palm, head tilted sideways as he looked away from the screen, no longer paying attention to the film that was still running for the both of them. “That's not the problem.”

“Is it the shared bathroom thing?” she asked curiously. “I promise we have a lock, so no one's going to walk in on you naked.”

“No, I—” Adrien cut himself off with a frustrated noise as he closed his eyes. “I'd really like to sleep with you, if that's okay.”

As much as she was overjoyed to hear that answer, it wasn't in a romantic sense at all. She doubted there would be any intimate touches, stolen glances, or anything more than sleeping in close proximity. But the thought of him being close enough to reach out and embrace, to be there beside her as his eyes crinkled from his laughter, was exciting.

“Oh,” she breathed, a bit relieved. “That's—that's fine, yeah. I'd like that.”

Without looking at her still, or even anywhere at all, he added on, “But I-I should tell you something before we plan this at all. It's kind of a deal breaker.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “Okay?”

“I...” Adrien paused, hand moving to fiddle with his hair while it was keeping him propped up still. “What kind of pillows do you have?”

Of all the things she'd expected, it wasn't that. Marinette laughed loudly, her body shaking from the force of it, and the sound only increased as she heard his exaggeratedly offended reaction.

“Not the feathery ones that you're allergic to,” she promised, remembering that titbit from before. “My bed is safe and perfectly fine for you to roll around in, Adrien.”

He was quiet as he asked, “You remember that?”

“Yeah,” she confirmed, lips curling into a smile at how surprised he looked. “I remember a lot of things about you.”

Including his favourite shower gel that he'd enthusiastically described to her over a year ago, and she'd stood dumbfounded in her local supermarket when it had finally started being stocked in her country. She'd decided that he didn't need to know that she'd curiously bought it on impulse once.

“You—” In a movement that was more associated with her, Adrien moved and buried his face in the crook of his elbow, hiding his expression and muffling his voice slightly as he asked, “How are you even real?”

For a moment, Marinette could only stare at his self-conscious pose before she recovered and said, “I'm glad you asked. You see, there's this activity called sex—”

“Shut up, you dork,” Adrien called out, sounding entirely too fond to be chastising. “Fucking hell, I love you.”

She sucked in a breath.

They'd sent hearts in their messages for years, professed their love in ridiculous ways in their casual conversations, but when it was combined with him hiding his face from her and the way he'd said it at all caused her to start wondering. Surely, he couldn't—

“Love?” she questioned, voice cracking.

The film filled the silence of the pause, one where Marinette was far too aware of her breaths when he answered thickly, “I—yeah.”

She pulled the blanket up to her chin, almost trying to cocoon herself in the warmth to contain her fidgeting fingers. It was lucky that they'd decided to talk instead of typing to each other, and as she kept her eyes glued on his position, she was extremely glad that they were close enough to use their webcams.

“You,” he started, a bit croaky. “You don't have anything to say to that?”

Hoping that her voice wouldn't break, Marinette quietly replied, “I love you, too.”

The times that she'd imagined the two of them confessing their love for each other had long since been over; Marinette had grown accustomed to being his best friend, though she did still yearn for more when she caught her thoughts wandering before she stopped herself. Yet, in front of her eyes, he was showing her a vulnerable side to himself that had her trying to analyse every movement, wondering whether it was possible that her feelings weren't one-sided.

Not lifting his head up, Adrien continued on to say, “I-I don't mean like that, not how we've always said it.”

She blinked rapidly, willing herself to hear him out before she succumbed to her emotional response. The first part of the sentence had caused her to brace herself for rejection on reflex.

“How do you mean it, then?” came from her lips, soft and vulnerable as she braved his reaction.

“I—” Adrien cleared his throat after his voice cracked. “I mean in the romantic way; the kind where I want to hold your hand and kiss you.”

It was what she'd wanted to hear for years, yet all that came out was, “Oh.”

Because, surely, she felt that she would've noticed the shift in his feelings towards her. Their interactions hadn't changed the past few weeks, not before they did their collaboration, yet, clearly, something had happened without her realising it. When had their messages and talks shifted past one-sided yearning to both, with the two of them unaware?

“I'm sorry,” he professed, words coming out rushed and panicked. “I know I should've told you before we started possibly planning to meet, but I thought I could handle my feelings, you know? I just never expected for you to offer to sleep with me— _beside_ me, not with!”

The blanket fell down to her thighs carelessly.

“You—you love me?” Marinette stuttered, going back to the first point before she handled the other implications. Because the thought that he'd been oblivious to her feelings for so long couldn't have been true; from how Nino teased the two of them in group chat, along with the other users that somewhat knew the both of them, it was barely a secret that she adored him. “ _Me_?”

“I'm sorry,” Adrien repeated, barely a whisper.

She scrambled forward to pause the film to make sure that she could hear him fully. “I—no,” she quickly said. “Don't say that, please.”

“I didn't want to get this in the way of our friendship, but sharing a bed means that waking up with an erection will be even more awkward with you there, and I'll probably get really embarrassed when you see me like that,” he rambled on, still keeping his face hidden so she couldn't see his expression. “That's... if you still want to meet at all.”

Her stomach clenched uncomfortably at the vulnerability in his voice. “Of course I still want to,” she confessed softly. “I—how have you not realised that I love you, Adrien?”

That made him look up for the first time in minutes, sitting up properly as the stared at her with a visibly surprised expression. Struggling for words, opening his mouth with no words escaping before he closed it again, Marinette shifted, feeling a bit shy from his reaction.

It wasn't the romantic confession she'd thought about in the past, not when his hair was sticking up in different directions from his previous position, nor the quiet horror film that was still playing on his end, the audio picked up every few seconds from his microphone.

“The hold your hand and kiss kind of love,” she clarified quietly, tucking some hair behind her ear nervously. “I-I just thought you didn't like me that way?”

It came out sounding like a question.

“I do,” Adrien started, barely a whisper before he repeated it in a stronger voice. “I... I thought you'd noticed, and that's why you went out with that guy before. As a way to make me back off without hurting my feelings directly, I guess.”

She swallowed. “I wouldn't do that.”

“I thought you did,” he said apologetically. “Can I—can I ask you how long you've—”

“Does it matter?” Marinette blurted, fiddling with her earrings. “It's really embarrassing.”

A breathy laugh left him. “Marinette, I literally confessed to you because I'm worried about freaking you out with my morning erections.”

Shoulders shaking from her laughter, the sound loud and honest, she admitted, “Well, when you put it like that, it's not so bad.”

“I'm not asking to compare how long we've been pining for each other, I'm just curious how long it's been mutual without either of us knowing,” Adrien revealed softly, running a hand through his hair before he placed them on his lap, trying to stop himself from fidgeting. “You—you really don't have to tell me if it makes you uncomfortable.”

After taking in a deep breath, Marinette pulled her knees up to her chest to get comfortable as she replied, “I can't give you an exact date, but I've liked you since before you even showed me what you look like.”

“That's...”

“A while?” She smiled, it not sincere enough to reach her eyes. “Yeah, it was a bit pathetic. I was convinced that I'd still like you even if you turned out to be a gargoyle, but that went out the window when you started sending me pictures.”

“Pathetic?” he repeated, incredulous as his gaze flickered to the camera for a moment. “Marinette, no. That's probably the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me.”

Her lips parted. “Oh.”

“This might be too soon, but do you, by any chance, I mean—” Adrien started, stumbling over his words before he cut himself off to lick his lips nervously in a way that she rarely saw. “Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

Reaching down to curl her fingers into the material of the fallen blanket, she whispered, “Are you sure?”

“Yes?” His grin showed his teeth as he looked at her earnestly. “We're kind of in love with each other, so I don't see why not? Well, unless you want to wait until I come visit you to make sure that you still like me in person. I can't say I won't feel a bit rejected, but I'm okay with waiting, if that's your decision.”

What was the point of waiting? Marinette knew almost everything about him; from his nervous habits, what he did when he was bored, and the jealous side of him that appeared that made him embarrassed afterwards. Other than seeing him in person, to stand beside her, she knew everything that she needed to do know that she wanted to be with him.

“Yes,” she said, a bit high-pitched. Then, when she saw how he fidgeted, she realised how it had came out and quickly corrected herself with, “I'll date you now, I mean. Absolutely, yes.”

It came out as a whisper as he repeated, “Yes?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Marinette answer, a wide grin blossoming on her lips.

“...So I'm allowed to sleep beside you as your boyfriend?” Adrien quipped, dimples showing as he returned the smile.

Trying not to laugh, she pointed out, “And sleep _with_.”

“I'm going to die.”

-x-

There wasn't much that changed after they started dating. Their daily conversations were almost the same, the only addition being the slow inclusion of professions of love that had her feeling nervous at first before she'd calmed down, falling back into the comfortable lull of being with him. Adrien sent her the same pictures of him, Plagg, and funny things he saw through his day as usual, though another new addition was that on his social media accounts that were used for RienA, he'd started to include her username along with loving messages for everyone to see.

He also posted another song that he covered in French, one where the description had a message for her in it. It turned out that Nino had helped him with his pronunciation in secret when Marinette was at work, and it hadn't turned out too bad, other than a few syllables being skipped over at the fast parts of the song.

With their relationship being confirmed on both their channels—Marinette had covered a dance that he'd gawked at the first time she'd sent it to him, after remembering that he'd recommended her to do the routine months before, back when she was living at her parents' house—it meant that they received some more attention than usual. With Adrien's viewer count always being higher than hers, when he started to mention her more in descriptions after their collaboration, even if it was just a comment that she'd helped him pick the song, there was still a steady increase in views on her own channel.

It was a bit intimidating, to say the least. A lot more than what she was used to receiving, especially with the amount of mentions that she saw whenever she looked on social media.

There was a lot of requests to see Adrien, too.

He was still cautious about it, though. Other than his neighbours that heard him belting out songs during the day—sometimes badly when he was trying to make her laugh, or streaming it live and doing strange requests—he hadn't told his close friends or anyone else that knew him in person about his hobby (it helped that he had two accounts in certain places; one for RienA, and the other for Adrien).

“It doesn't count as a hobby any more,” Marinette pointed out one evening as he fretted over choosing his next song, trying to pick between three options. “It's literally your job, Adrien. You're releasing videos more often than you have in the past, and it's paying off for you.”

For him, there was the option of trying to release original music and pursuing a career with record companies, all choices that he'd stayed away from because he was worried about his identity. But for her, Marinette knew her channel was a hobby, something that made her money in her spare time. She hadn't studied dance, had attended to classes to learn technical moves or anything serious, so there wasn't much that she could do with it.

She'd accepted that long before, just enjoying her time as it wasn't a commitment that she'd grown tired of. Dancing was something that she enjoyed, especially when she was able to receive positive comments and support from viewers online, and not to mention it causing her to meet her three closest friends over the years.

When she asked Adrien how he found her channel, he'd grown red-faced as he admitted it was because the thumbnail had intrigued him.

“I'm a sucker for a pretty face, okay,” he tried to defend himself, only for her to point out that her face was barely seen in detail, as her videos always showed her from head-to-toe, allowing for the whole choreography to be seen. He'd stubbornly crossed his arms and said in the end, “Look, you're super attractive, and I don't deserve to be judged for checking out the rest of your channel because of it.”

With Nino and Alya's okay for him to stay with them—the two of them seemed more excited than Marinette when she told them, just before admitting that they'd started dating—the plan was for Adrien to visit for a few weeks around her birthday.

The only problem was that was almost five months after they'd started dating. So, for those months between, they planned it slowly, with Marinette jotting down ideas and places that he wanted to see, trying to figure out what was best for him to experience.

“I've been there before,” Adrien admitted. “Other than when I was able to talk, I mean. I was born there.”

It was easy to forget about his famous father sometimes. His family had moved from France when he was younger to help pursue his father's fame—and make it easier for him to work—and it was due to that that Adrien had never really learned the language, other than the few classes he'd taken in school before realising he was atrocious at trying to understand languages in the classroom.

She tried to teach him a few phrases every now and then, occasionally waking him up while speaking French to hear him grumble and tell her to stop confusing him. It was sweet, really, how dedicated he seemed to attempting to learn. She learned through Nino that Adrien had attempted to start a conversation with him in French, only to mess up and say something rude that caused the two of them to laugh immaturely.

Out of all of them, Alya was the most helpful. After only talking to Adrien rarely (meaning when she walked in on Marinette being on call with him), Alya had stepped up and chosen to send Adrien links to helpful articles online to try and help him understand the language, including flashcards that he could look at when he was free.

Although she knew that their flat wasn't a mess, she still panicked about there being enough room for four of them. When Alya walked in on her counting their plates, she'd been too embarrassed to tell Adrien about it later that evening.

It didn't stop Marinette from buying his favourite shower gel when she saw it at the supermarket, but she did calm down a bit.

A long-distance relationship wasn't anything she'd ever imagined herself being in. She was an affectionate person; she liked hugs, bumping her shoulder against her close friends, and general intimacy that was missing from the distance between them. They made do with talking to each other constantly—as often as they had before they were dating, which was no surprise—but there was still a yearning to do more.

The fact that she didn't know how his skin felt was strange, too.

Knowing that she wasn't the only one excited for them to talk, to have slow messages when she was busy at work, and to spend as much time together as possible, made it easier. Marinette felt more cherished than she'd felt in her previous relationships, regardless of the distance, and the attention and affection that he was able to show her through devices alone was impressive.

She tried to make sure that she did the same back, shyly professing her love before she left to go to sleep, knowing that he still had hours left to his evening.

After dating for four months—months that were filled with shy confessions, smiling pictures, and sweet messages—Marinette wondered whether he was waiting until they were together to further their relationship. Sometimes, she had insecure thoughts where she wondered whether she wasn't enough, that he wasn't interested in her that way, but she knew him a lot better than that.

He didn't deserve her doubts.

So, when they'd just finished playing a game online together—the one Marinette had signed up for for what seemed like years ago and hadn't touched further than making her account—Marinette gathered up her courage.

“Hey, can you close your eyes?” she asked out of the blue when he'd put his glass down, no longer drinking.

Adrien complied easily, not questioning her any more.

Taking in a breath, she pulled her t-shirt over her head, throwing it onto the bed in a wrinkled mess that she felt too nervous to deal with. Her pyjama trousers were still on, baggy ones with a ridiculous design that he'd bought for her last birthday, and her brassiere was covering her from showing actual nudity, but the swell of her breasts and above her navel was visible on the camera.

She ran a hand through her hair, resisting the urge to tuck it into a ponytail to reveal her collarbones, too. “You can open them now.”

If there was a difference to her voice, he didn't comment on it. Adrien happily obeyed and blinked a few times to adjust to the change again, then visibly stiffened as he caught sight of her. “I— _what—_ ”

Her face felt warm.

“Marinette,” he choked out, fiddling with the long sleeves that covered his hands.

She grimaced, looking away. “Too soon?”

“What? No, I—it's not that,” he stuttered, a bit high-pitched from what she presumed to be panic. “I just wasn't expecting this, that's all.”

Not trusting her voice, Marinette nodded before she turned in her chair, trying to reach for the shirt that she'd thrown away, intent on covering herself up. It would've been so much easier to bring the topic up by talking—it made sense that she'd want to advance their flirting further, but trying to find the right words had been daunting.

“Wait,” he called, stopping her when she'd started to straighten out the material. “Give me a moment.”

The sound of him moving was picked up by his microphone. Curiously, Marinette turned around just in time to see him pull his own shirt over his head, similarly placing it beside him without taking the time to fold it.

It was a significant move that spoke louder than words, but all she could say in response to it was, “Oh.”

She'd seen him shirtless before, many times during their years of knowing each other. But it had never been in such an intimate way, not when the top of his ears were coloured red to match his face, shyness clear as he tried to occupy his hands by putting them straight down to where she knew his thighs to be, body language stiff and nervous.

“I just didn't want to push you for anything,” Adrien admitted quietly, looking a bit frazzled as he kept his gaze away from the screen. “It's not that I'm not interested, trust me. I thought that you'd maybe want to wait until we see each other to decide whether you really see me that way or not.”

The words sounded strikingly similar to her insecure trail of thoughts that she'd pushed away constantly. To know that he'd wondered about the same things, too shy to voice them out of nowhere, made her feel reassured that he was a good person more than anything. Adrien hadn't pushed her for anything; not spending time together, sending nude pictures—they hadn't gone onto that hurdle yet—or anything else.

He was just _kind_.

She swallowed. “I'm not the one that's refusing to look at the screen.”

“I'm a fragile person, okay?” he defended with a laugh. “I'm already overwhelmed with you being my girlfriend.”

All the doubts she'd had fizzled away. “As my boyfriend, you're absolutely allowed to look at me—and do more than that, actually.”

He made a frustrated noise, running a hand through his hair. “I will explode if you start talking dirty to me.”

Shamelessly, Marinette immediately replied, “I do only want to see you explode in one way.”

It was worth it to see him laugh and visibly relax. Jokes and teasing was a comfort zone for them, something they were accustomed to in their relationship, and seeing that his shoulders weren't tense or stiff any more as he relaxed against his chair caused her to smile widely. Then, as his eyes flickered back to look at her, she shyly raised a hand to wave at him.

“It's up to you if you want me to take anything else off,” she pointed out cheekily, just to see whether he'd squirm.

He grimaced. “This is too much pressure for my frail heart.”

With a laugh, Marinette admitted shamelessly, “Honestly, I don't think I have the confidence to get naked out of nowhere, so you're reacting just the way I wanted you to.”

“If we're being technical here, I'm showing more skin than you,” Adrien retorted, crossing his arms pointedly. “You've seen it before, but it—it's kind of different now, isn't it?”

She snorted. “Different because you're aware that I want your dick now?”

Adrien spluttered, “You do _not_ get to be like this. I'm not the only oblivious one here!”

From the direction of their conversation, along with the tone that it had taken immediately, it was clear that they weren't going to go any further that evening, and she was glad about that. As much as her wind had wandered onto that trail of thought, actually thinking about the two of them being intimate over webcam seemed more daunting than being in person.

She'd never really done that in the past—then again, Adrien was the first one she was dating that didn't live in the same area as her, let alone country. There was something that made her nervous about knowing that her own camera would be visible in the bottom of the screen, to know that she'd be able to see her reactions clearly rather than it being left up to her imagination in person.

But seeing him sat there, redness to his cheeks as he looked visibly flustered just from seeing her partially undressed, was endearing.

“I promise not to undress any further until you're here,” she quipped, smile reaching her eyes. “It's a bit unfair if we're not able to touch each other, right?”

He made a strangled noise. “You're really trying to kill me, aren't you?”

Batting her eyelashes innocently, Marinette sang, “I don't know what you're on about.”

It didn't stop her from sending pictures that showed her cleavage, the outline of her brassiere in outfits, or shots of her thighs when she was sat down, bored as he was still in bed and unable to entertain her for a while.

The string of typos and multiple exclamation marks made it worth it.

Adrien returned the pictures easily; she saw more of his abdomen than she ever had before, the waistband of his underwear, and his body still wet from the shower once.

The only problem with the last one was that Alya had seen it, too.

“Do we need to invest in soundproofing for your bedroom?” Alya asked teasingly as Marinette fumbled to close the picture, trying to hide her phone and brush away the embarrassment. “I'd offer you to use my bedroom, but I really don't want you to be nasty in there. I can already tell that you're going to be gross together.”

She sniffed. “We might be tragically innocent and not go any further than holding hands, Alya.”

“You can't tell me you two aren't going to sleep together,” Alya replied, raising her eyebrows so they were visible above her spectacles. “You've been practically married for as long as I've known you.”

Fiddling with her sleeves, Marinette murmured, “What if we're not as comfortable with each other in person? It's a possibility.”

Alya bumped her shoulder against hers. “You'll still have us here if it gets a bit awkward. And if it comes down to it, we can always make Nino and Adrien share a bed.”

She laughed. “They'd probably enjoy that.”

“Exactly.” Alya beamed. “I can always try and get the day off work to go to the airport with you to pick him up, too. I don't mind being a possible third wheel.”

She shook her head. “No, it's okay. I'm completely certain he's not a murderer, and it's probably better to not use you as a crutch immediately, right?”

“Remember, if you ever need some time apart, Nino will be more than happy to entertain him for a few hours,” Alya reminded her softly. “Even if it means the two of us going out for some coffee to talk about your gooey feelings, we can do that.”

Marinette smiled gratefully. “You're the best.”

-x-

As Adrien couldn't bring his computer along with him, they'd come to the solution of Nino allowing him to use his when he was at work. So, Adrien planned to bring his microphone along with him and have a few streams at the weekend to make sure he was active. He'd recorded videos to post throughout the weeks that he'd slaved over the short time before he had to leave, and although Marinette recorded one to post at some point, her channel wasn't her job.

She still had to attend her job when he was visiting. Leaving Adrien alone in their apartment by itself was a show of trust, but with Nino offering his devices, too, it had made Adrien feel even more welcomed.

With his neighbour taking care of Plagg, and promising to send Adrien pictures every few days to assure him that his cat was fine, Adrien didn't have much to worry about.

Marinette might've fretted the week before he arrived. She got her haircut, just to make sure she was presentable, then tried to make sure that their kitchen was stocked enough, and cleaned their rooms far too many times, and ended up with Alya sitting her down and telling her to do nothing.

The day she went to the airport, she was jittery from excitement. The summer weather was hot, enough for her to wear a sundress that didn't show too much skin, and she fiddled with the straps of her backpack as she waited, tapping the end of her shoes against the floor in an inconsistent rhythm every now and then. Her eyes kept jerking over to the screen, checking to see whether his flight had landed or not, and her stomach was clenching uncomfortably from the nerves.

It was equally terrifying and exciting to think that she'd finally meet him after so long. To know that she'd be able to see the details of his skin, how his hair moved from the wind, or even what it felt like to be standing next to him at all caused her to shuffle on the spot nervously.

He stood out in the crowd that emerged, surprisingly. Marinette had worries that she'd miss him, not be able to spot him out in the crowd and would therefore have to call him from her embarrassment, but it wasn't like that at all.

It wasn't a moment of seeing his face and realising it was him immediately, though. Her eyes were darting around, looking at everyone available who was within his age range, blond, and with a somewhat familiar blond, which dwindled it down to a tiny number.

When he caught sight of her, a blinding smile showing his teeth as he raised one hand to wave as he started walking her way, Marinette returned the grin and pushed herself away from the wall that she'd been leaning on, smoothing out her dress as he approached.

Of all the witty things she could've said—there was a plethora that she'd contemplated using—the first words that left as he came to stand in front of her were, “You're tall.”

Adrien's laughter was loud and abrupt.

They'd spoken about heights, of course—that and about every other physical feature, and comparing some of their weirdly placed moles—but she hadn't quite thought about their height difference before. So, to see that she came up his shoulders, not even his chin, was what she was focusing on at first. Not the way that she was able to see that he had blond on the end of his eyelashes, or that the crinkle in the corner of his eyes when he smiled was even more attractive in person.

She swallowed.

After a few moments of fretting, she took a step towards him and wrapped her arms around his middle. The embrace was a bit awkward, especially with him returning while holding his bags, and when she pulled away and smoothed out her dress again, she was sure he felt just as flustered as she did.

It took until they were waiting for their first bus for Adrien to let her carry one of his bags. The conversation wasn't stilted, but there was a certain shyness about him, that she was sure that she was displaying, too. When their knees had touched when they sat side-by-side, she thought that she might've smiled too widely for something so simple, but he seemed to be in such the same condition.

Adrien's knowledge of French was abysmal, so it was up to her to read the signs and pay attention to where their stop was. Partway through their journey, he reached into his smallest bag and revealed that he'd printed off—and laminated—the flashcards that Alya had sent to him, but his worst problem was trying to use them in the right context.

When they got off their bus, walking to find their final one to get to her home, Marinette had worked up the courage to reach out and gently catch his hand in hers, linking their fingers together in such a juvenile move that it surprised her when he jumped before relaxing, squeezing her hand in a reassuring way.

She tried not to focus on the calloused skin, the softness of his palms, or the way he kept sneaking glances at her when he thought she wasn't looking. The redness of his ears meant that he knew he'd been caught a few times, and that little endearing feature about him was so much easier to see when he was right beside her.

“I didn't think you'd want to hold my hand,” he admitted when they climbed into their new seats, holding hands again when they'd stopped moving the bags. “Not so soon, at least.”

Marinette let out a nervous laugh. “I had this grand plan to kiss you at the airport, but I kind of panicked when I realised how fucking tall you are.”

“Really?” Adrien asked, sounding a bit breathy. “I—I've told you all this before? I've seen you in pictures, so I was expecting this, to be honest.”

She fiddled with his fingers. “I think you've got an inch or two on Nino.”

His grin was wolfish. “Don't tell Alya.”

Outraged, she didn't hesitate to yank her hand away and hit his shoulder, laughter coming from the two of them.

It was a relief that he wasn't too different in person.

By the time they'd gotten to her apartment, she'd only dropped her keys once. He'd seen every nook and cranny through her phone, but he still took his time looking around before approaching her door and putting his bags down in a free corner.

Marinette fretted for a bit, asking whether he wanted a drink or food already, things that he shook his head to every time. When she excused herself to get a glass of water, something to keep herself occupied with if she felt a bit nervous, she was surprised when she came back to her bedroom to see Adrien spread out on her mattress, closed eyes blinking open when she reappeared.

“Time difference getting you already?” she questioned, setting down the glass on her desk before coming to sit beside him.

He snorted. “I was too excited to sleep properly last night, that's all.”

The only word she could describe him with was cute. From the way his hair was spread out against her duvet—that she'd worriedly changed that morning—to the lazy-looking smile that he was showing her; all of it, including his soft expression, was cute.

She crawled up the bed until she was on her side, mirroring his position, only a few inches away. “I'm really happy that you're here,” Marinette said softly, reaching out and taking his hand into her own again. “I never thought we'd get to where we are now, honestly.”

“Let's just not mention how dumb we both were.” He grinned. “I'm glad I'm here, too.”

Moving her thumb in soothing patterns over his skin, she let out a laugh. “Were? Adrien, you thought I wouldn't even hold your hand today when we're supposed to be sharing a bed.”

He squeezed her hand. “I find that having no expectations is easier than expecting too much.”

“Close your eyes, then.”

Adrien squinted at her suspiciously. “Last time you said that, you started getting naked.”

“You make that sound like you had to stop me,” Marinette pointed out, grinning widely. “If I promise not to undress, will you listen to me?”

“Fine,” he complied, eyes closing obediently.

She wetted her lips.

Shuffling forward so their chests were almost touching, Marinette leaned into him slowly, giving him the chance to move away if he wasn't comfortable. From being purposely slow, she made it so the feel of her breath was obvious as her lips hovered in front of his, their noses brushing against each other, patient and waiting to see whether he was averse to it or not as. When he exhaled shakily, she realised that he'd caught on to what she was doing.

The tightening on his hold of her hand was what came as him consenting.

With a smile, Marinette closed her own eyes as she softly moved forward, able to feel that his lips were dry and slightly chapped, a feeling that assured her that he was there, real and in person to be able to receive her affections. The kiss was tentative, soft, and gentle; all the attributes that she associated with him. The warmth of his breath against her skin was grounding, along with the clumsy moments where their teeth clashed or lips strayed too far from each other; clumsy and sweet.

Using the hand that wasn't holding his, she reached out and grasped the material of his t-shirt, making the position comfier than before. It was in response to that that Adrien released her hand, instead trailing his fingers over her bare arm in a curious way, slow and steady in a way that she was sure was to see whether she'd enjoy it or not.

Marinette responded by reaching up and running a hand through his hair, sure that he could feel her smile from finally being able to touch the blond strands. She fiddled with the hairs at his nape as their kiss became more confident, no longer feather-light and tentative, and when she parted her lips and ran her tongue along his bottom lip, his hand had settled on her waist, feeling undeniably intimate.

As their kiss became less clumsy and a lot more passionate, Marinette boldly moved one of her legs to rest upon his thigh, causing the material of her dress to push up from the action. There was barely a pause in their kiss as his hand travelled lower, running his fingers along the newly bared skin in a way that made her heart beat fast in anticipation and excitement, thrilled that the new development had happened at all.

It was long and drawn out; between kisses and pulling back to catch their breaths, they exchanged shy smiles, and Marinette took notice of the redness of his face and how fond his expression was when he looked at her, feeling the same warm feeling within when she thought about his messages throughout the day. There was no denying that there was more feeling to their encounter than just lust—if anything, they'd firmly avoided the lustful part for months, skirting around it other than the pictures that hadn't shown any nudity in them.

So, when his hand paused near the top of her thigh, not daring to climb any higher to dip beneath the dress and feel where her underwear of, Marinette took the initiative and moved her hips forward, taking pleasure in the way he took an audible intake of breath and broke their kiss as she pressed against him.

She shot him a smile, letting him know that it was intentional.

From their close distance—the lack of camera that couldn't make out all of his features—she was able to see his throat move as he swallowed. It was such a small difference, but combined with being able to feel the warmth of his skin against hers and see the way his chest moved when he breathed, it made her all the more happy.

Adrien was the one to start their kiss that time.

A hum of approval left her at that, and she rocked her hips purposely against his clothed arousal, aware that there was little fabric in the way on her end. The dress had been pushed up enough, and when his hand started to move, slowly creeping up in a cautious way, she tugged a little on his hair to convey that it was what she wanted.

He started to mirror her movements, pressing his crotch against hers in a steady rhythm that was still somewhat slow, as though he was expecting her to stop at any moment. Marinette let out a moan that was muffled by their mingled breaths when he rubbed against a sensitive part, her underwear doing little do cover her.

Self-consciously picking out her underwear that morning was suddenly a great decision when he fiddled with the lace, hands roaming her backside and squeezing the flesh there in what she assumed to be appreciation. Marinette instinctively rolled her hips into him, meeting his movement with a gasp at the friction, and she let the hand that had been in his hair fall, touching his shirt before she slipped beneath to feel his side, meeting the warm skin with anticipation.

When Adrien broke their kiss, she worried for a moment that she'd taken a step to far. Yet, instead, he pushed himself to sit up for a moment—taking his hands off of her in the process, leaving cold areas where he had once been—and pulled his shirt over his head, placing it beside him before he settled back down, dimples showing as he smiled.

She gulped.

“I'm wearing more clothes than you,” Marinette blurted, face already feeling hot from their activities.

Adrien laughed, reaching down to his feet to tug off his socks. When he turned to face her, his expression was smug as he held up three fingers and said, “We're even now, right? Unless my belt doesn't count as clothing.”

“You're terrible,” she scolded.

Then, despite her words, she sat up and reached behind to undo the button on her back then tugged the material over her head, tossing it so it fell over her desk chair, somehow looking in better condition that his bundled up shirt on the corner of her bed. When she looked back to him, her smile turned wide when she saw the way he was openly staring, eyes a bit wide from how abrupt she'd been.

That seemed to be their relationship in a nutshell; her doing things without warning.

“Two left,” Marinette murmured, reaching out and teasingly running her fingertips along his abdomen before tugging the belt from his jeans, discarding it to where he'd placed his shirt. She folded her hands in her lap, looking up at him innocently when he made no move to continue. “Aren't you going to help me out?”

With a laugh, Adrien proclaimed, “You're going to be the death of me.”

He chose to take off her brassiere with shaking hands. Marinette didn't laugh when he fumbled a bit, choosing to lean her head against his shoulder for support instead, pressing a kiss to the skin there as he tried to undo her clothing. When the coldness met the exposed skin of her breasts, she sat up to look him in the eyes, bumping their noses together before giving him a chaste kiss.

As she couldn't do much, she toyed with the button of his jeans, pulling down the zip, letting him take off the rest of the clothing himself. Being partially nude with him in person wasn't nearly as daunting as it had been back when she'd first taken off her shirt on camera, and even then it had only been the thought of it that had made her nervous. Yet, with him beside her and shooting her reassuring gazes and hardly able to keep his eyes away from her when he thought she wasn't looking, she felt comfortable with him.

That was the best part of their relationship, in her eyes. The small things didn't make her embarrassed or nervous around him; if she stuttered, tripped, or happened to make a fool of herself, he didn't think any less of her, and the main part was that she didn't expect him to. Adrien had been a positive constant in her life for so long that it seemed only natural for him to finally be there beside her, pressing a kiss to her cheek after he'd finished taking his jeans off.

“I really, really love you,” she whispered softly, reaching out to cup his jaw.

She didn't hold herself back from pressing her lips against one of his dimples when he smiled widely at that.

Their underwear was discarded between kisses—fast-paced ones, a lot more desperate than before—and Marinette didn't jump when she felt his fingertips trailing to the inside of her thighs, venturing further to between her legs, purposely running over her protrusion so she let out a muffled moan. She rocked into his hand to encourage him, breaking their kiss to rest her head on his shoulder again when he pressed a finger inside her carefully, ever-so-slow as he inched inside.

The feeling was nice; it had been her own hands for so long that knowing it was someone else was a plus in itself, but when it was combined with Adrien pressed a kiss to the top of her head, within the hair at her crown, it made it even better than before. She'd been fine without pushing their relationship further, but with what they were doing at that moment, she had to wonder whether they could really go for so long again without doing anything. Would it be any different afterwards, when they knew what it felt like to be with each other?

Those thoughts were pushed out when his hand started to move, thumb grazing against her sensitive nub each time, and the slick sounds that started to become audible as his rhythm changed didn't make her embarrassed in the last. Hearing the laboured breathing coming from both of them, feeling the warmth of his skin; all of it spurred on her attraction to him, making the warmth that was coiling within her abdomen become more apparent.

Marinette moaned freely when a second finger joined in, the slide not painful at all, the adjustment easy for the both of them. She hummed in appreciation as he continued, biting softly into his bared neck, but not hard enough to leave a mark. As much as she wanted to be possessive and leave marks on his skin, they hadn't discussed that beforehand, and she didn't want to cause him to be embarrassed later on.

“I—” Adrien paused, clearing his throat. “I haven't unpacked yet.”

It took a moment for her to register the meaning to his words, and then she let out a laugh, placing a kiss to where she'd bitten him gently. “Hang on, then,” she replied, regretfully tapping his hand for him to retract his fingers out of her.

After going across her room to one of her drawers and unwrapping the plastic packaging, Marinette tossed the item at him, ignoring the raised eyebrows.

“I bought them last week, okay?” she explained quietly, sitting down back on the bed as he opened the foil. “They were on sale and everything. It was a good deal, really.”

Through his laughter, Adrien said, “I'm glad that you're only willing to have sex if it's at a good price.”

She stared.

“...That sounded like a prostitution joke, didn't it?”

“Yes, it really did,” Marinette confirmed, crossing her arms, but it only drew attention to her breasts when his gaze flickered back to her. “I regret liking you back when I thought you looked like an ogre.”

Dramatically placing a hand over his heart, Adrien looked offended. “Did you really think my looks wouldn't compare to my angelic voice?”

“Your angelic voice called me a hooker barely a minute ago,” she muttered, pushing at his shoulders so he'd fall back against the bed willingly.

“You're absolutely welcome to kill me with your thighs for that,” he replied, grinning widely.

Marinette laughed as she straddled him, putting her weight on her knees as she placed one hand onto his chest to keep her upright, the other gripping the bottom of his member, guiding it between her legs to where she wanted it to be. Taking in a deep breath, she purposely brushed the tip against her sensitive nub, teasing the both of them in the process, just to hear him sigh in frustration.

“ _Marinette_ ,” he called, sounding more winded than scolding. “I didn't sign up to die from you teasing me.”

She snorted. “You can't have everything you want in life, sadly.”

Then, just to frustrate him, she settled her weight down so she was sitting on the top of his thighs, his arousal wedged against her cleft but not in the way that he wanted it to be. She laughed heartily when he narrowed his eyes at her, the reddened lips that he had standing out against his skin. There was something charming about his mused hair and the way he was looking at her, and it made her feel cherished even in such a ridiculous situation.

As she moved her hips, causing her to slide across his slick member, Adrien grumbled, “Are you sure you want to be doing this when your friends get home soon?”

That caused her to pause.

“I hate it when you're right,” Marinette said with defeat after looking towards her clock. “It's entirely your fault that this happened, you know.”

“I sincerely apologise for accidentally calling you a hooker, now please have sex with me,” he easily responded, resting his hands on her hips as she pushed herself up onto her knees again. “I really don't want to be naked when I meet your friends for the first time.”

Pressing the tip against the right part that time, Marinette nudged his arousal inside slowly, closing her eyes as she slowly settled down, a moan escaping at the full feeling. The pain was minute, barely noticeable from the attention his fingers had given her previously, but she still stayed still to herself a chance to adjust, shifting her weight ever-so-slightly to find the most comfortable way to straddle him.

The sight of him with his hair against her patterned pillows was one that she'd treasure; from the colour on his face, to the blond at the end of his eyelashes, and the way his lips were parted as he took in audible breaths—it was everything that she wanted to remember.

Licking her lower lip, Marinette admitted, “We've got a good hour until Alya's home.”

He blinked. “Oh.”

“She's picking up dinner for all of us, so that's why she'll be later than usual,” she revealed, hands trailing over his exposed chest, feeling the curves and bumps there. “It was fun to see you so worrying, though. Real cute.”

Adrien huffed then moved his hips.

It was a good answer.

Her eyes closed as she lifted herself up and slowly sunk back down, taking in a sharp brief from the pleasurable feeling that appeared. As she started a slow pace, it was clear that Adrien was more than happy to go along with any rhythm that she wanted, content to keep his hands on her hips and move to meet her on the way down each time, thrusting his hips up gently. It wasn't a desperate or needy affair; it was quite slow, filled with their loud breaths and muffled moans, and she was just glad that he was there at all.

With his nails digging little half-moons into her hips, gripping her tightly as she started to feel her knees protesting to the position, she started to lean forward, putting more weight on him to try and support herself. Her heartbeat was wild, the pulse between her legs prominent and demanding, and the warmth that was building in her abdomen was hard to ignore.

When Marinette opened her eyes to peek at him, to see his parted lips and half-lidded eyes as his lips curled into a smile when he realised she was watching him, she exhaled shakily.

“I love you,” she said again, tossing her hair behind her shoulder so she could kiss him.

One of the hands left her hips, instead cupping her jaw gently as he continued to kiss her, hips still rutting against her. Along with the sound of slick skin, their mingled ragged breaths, and the warmth that she could feel from him, the newest position had his body rubbing against her protrusion with every movement. From the appreciative moans that left her, she assumed that he had to know that she liked it, as he started to be more dominant in their movements, moving both hands back to hold her hips in place with a tight grip that made her groan.

When her pleasure hit her peak, she broke away from his mouth with a gasp, resting her head on his shoulder as her muscles clenched, tightening around him.

After catching her breath, aware that he was close from the way he was moving desperately against her, she peppered kisses onto his neck, running a hand through his hair and tugging gently.

She could feel it when he shuddered against her, slumping back into the mattress.

The first thing he said when he'd recovered was, “I love you, too.”

Laughing, she pressed another kiss against his neck. “Well, that happened.”

“I—yeah,” Adrien agreed, sounding breathless. “I'm still allowed to take you out on a date, right?”

“I don't think you can date your translator,” she replied cheekily, pushing herself up gently to try and cause the least discomfort. “As much as I want to cuddle with you, we should probably clean up before anyone gets home.”

He grimaced. “You're right.”

-x-

Alya was overjoyed when she saw the flashcards.

Marinette was laughing the whole time that Alya had pulled Adrien into a hug, as he looked overwhelmed and confused, unsure on what to do with the whole situation.

As suspected, Adrien got along well with everyone. The first dinner they all had together—where Nino walked in halfway through, making a strangled noise of surprise when he saw Adrien, as he'd forgotten he was coming that day—the conversation flowed well, other than the moments where one of them forgot the right word to use in English, then slipped into talking French with each other. Adrien didn't complain about it, though, and said it was nice to see them conversing in a way that he'd never really had the chance to listen to, other than occasionally on call with Marinette.

The first time she had to get out of bed before him to get ready for work, Marinette had debated with herself for a few seconds before placing a kiss to his forehead when she left.

She didn't think he was awake for it, honestly.

Yet, when he greeted her back at home later that day, the first time he did was return the gesture with a large grin.

He didn't have to stay cooped up in the apartment every time she was at work. Sometimes, Nino or Alya didn't have shifts and would spend time with him, while others when they were all busy, they'd already left a map beforehand on the table and written down a few more handy phrases in case he needed to use them, along with giving him Alya's phone number to add to his collection.

As he was busy recording the first few days where he was alone—no streams yet, as he wasn't sure whether he wanted to do that—it wasn't until he'd edited two videos to post that he ventured outside by himself.

Marinette only knew because he'd called her up, lost. It was lucky that it was during her break, so she was able to answer and guide him back, trying not to laugh at how embarrassed he'd sounded when he first greeted her.

Being with Adrien was easy. They stole kisses and glances at each other more often than not, enough so for Alya to throw a pillow at Marinette's face when the four of them were trying to watch a film together, and ventured out some days to see the different places that Adrien had asked to go. The worst of his decisions had been a karaoke bar, one where he'd insisted on singing in a shrill tone rather than the usual one he did, all for the fun of it.

The weeks she spent with him were surprisingly domestic. As he felt like he needed to contribute, he'd bought their groceries after the first week, cooking dinner for them a few nights, and tried to pick up the bill at restaurants before she'd slapped his hand away and paid for it herself.

“Habit.” He shrugged, looking a bit bashful after she'd bought lunch for the two of them the following day.

She pursed her lips. In the past, he hadn't been shy about admitting that he had money—the designer clothes that she used to receive proved that—but she knew that he was paying for himself after moving out.

That thought caused her to still for a moment. “Does your father even know you're here?”

Adrien smiled sheepishly. “Kind of? I told him I'm busy for a couple of weeks for my girlfriend, then hung up when he started demanding to meet you. He's probably still sulking about it.”

She resisted the urge to sigh. “Did he even know that we're dating before that?”

“Of course not.” He snorted. “I don't tell him anything unless I have to. He ran a background check on my last girlfriend.”

“So you don't want to know about my criminal history?”

Raising his eyebrows, he replied, “I doubt you have anything on your record.”

“I tried to steal my next door neighbour's puppy once,” she admitted thoughtfully. “They did threaten to call the police, and since I was only ten, I believed them.”

His laughter wasn't forced. “What a wild child.”

Her birthday came in the middle of his stay.

It started off with Adrien kissing her after she'd woken up, slowly and lazily until Nino barged into her room, not at all apologetic about breaking them apart. She had to open her presents in front of everyone in the living room, all the while shying away from the attention. Pictures were taken and uploaded—for Marinette's family to see—and when she got to one, she had to pause.

“Which account of yours do you want me to tag?” she asked as she turned to Adrien, unsure on what he wanted to do.

He shrugged. “You can just do both? It's not a secret that you're dating me as RienA, and someone's bound to recognise my face as it is.”

Privacy was important to him, truly, and his two separate accounts proved that. He'd been so adamant not to attach his real name to his username, paranoid that the success would be linked to his name. Realising that he was willingly to sacrifice that, she questioned softly, “Are you sure?”

“It's fine,” Adrien assured her, leaning into her shoulder and pressing his head against hers. “It's bound to come out eventually; might as well be on our terms rather than a picture from your party.”

She tagged both of his accounts in her picture, not paying attention to any notifications after that as she pressed a kiss to his lips.

The evening was a loud event, filled with a few friends over at their apartment, Nino's music playing freely as they'd already warned their neighbours about the upcoming noise, and Alya had made it her personal mission to make sure that everyone present was wearing a ridiculous party hat.

Adrien was a hot topic between their guests because he was referred to as the mysterious boyfriend the whole time. At times, someone was try and strike up a conversation with him in French, and he immediately looked flustered and uncertain as he tried to respond, looking for Marinette or her flat-mates to help him not come across as impolite. For the ones that couldn't speak English well, they settled with communicating with him with hand gestures, and that turned out to be amusing when drinks were involved.

Afterwards, when the last guests were leaving, Marinette had cuddled up beside him on the sofa, their hands intertwined as she rested her head on his shoulder, eyes half-lidded from sleepiness.

“We can go to bed, Marinette,” he murmured, leaning into her.

She shook her head stubbornly. “You're not tired yet.”

“I'd rather cuddle you in bed then have to wake you up here,” Adrien pointed out, reaching out to poke her forehead gently. “You're very grumpy when you wake up, you know.”

“I'm adorable,” she corrected with a laugh, batting his hand away.

“Our time zones made me think that you were a morning person, but it's all a lie.” He made a disapproving noise. “Now I know that you grumble and scowl at everything for a little while.”

Standing up, she tugged him up to his feet as they started towards her bedroom. “I've always known that you're ridiculously positive in the morning. It's always terrified me.”

“Did you ever think it's because I wake up to a message from you?” he replied, dimples showing as he smiled. “I could be an ogre without you.”

She hummed. “Well, that's never find out.”

“Yeah,” Adrien agreed, squeezing their intertwined hands. “Let's not.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://xiueryn.tumblr.com) ʚ♡⃛ɞ(ू•ᴗ•ू❁)♥


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